


Blue Sky, White Morning

by theclouddetective



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclouddetective/pseuds/theclouddetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick meronia fluff for tumblr user dear-sheep-boy, enjoy some meaningless, childhood nonsense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Sky, White Morning

Mello still remembered when _he_ arrived, when he caught sight of him for the first time, hell, he even remembered the first words that came out of his mouth. It was ingrained so deeply into his memory by now, there was little chance he’d ever actually forget. The boy was unusual, but then again, all of them were. There was chalk dust smeared down the side of his face and clinging to the hem of his shirt, barely visible, as he was more or less the same color. His eyes were pale gray, and a shiver went up Mello’s spine when they connected with his, almost the exact color of the fog that swirled above him. His fingers found their way to his rosary, holding it tightly as the boy passed.  
He found him some time later, bent over a book in a remote corner of the library, pale fingers tracing the pages gently, as if it were alive. He screwed up his mouth, hands on his hips, and the boy looked up, foggy eyes framed with white lashes.  
“Can I help you?” his voice was low and heavy, and it startled him- Mello had almost not expected him to respond.  
“You’re the new kid, right? What’s your name?” the boy paused.  
“They call me Near.” Mello thrust out his hand a little awkwardly.  
“Mello.” 

Fast forward. They were sitting behind the clothesline, the white sheets a gentle, undulating wall between them and the rest of the world as they lay in the grass, drenched in a rare sunlight. London wasn’t exactly known for its bright mornings, especially this early in the spring. Near had whispered to him one night that he’d heard a teacher call them ‘thick as thieves’ (voice shrouded with worry, he’d never been too good with figures of speech), and in a lot of ways, that was a good way to describe them. Today’s spoils were a shirtful of fat red plums they’d snagged from a neighbouring tree, warm with sunlight and sweeter than sin. Dirt stained their feet and juice clung to their faces, weighing their voices down with stickyness as they passed puzzles and word problems to one another like some children passed around a ball. Mello wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and bit into the last plum, a rivulet of juice running down his chin.  
“You know,” Mello mumbled, blue eyes perfect reflections of the sky he was spread under, “I think we’re different from everyone else in the whole wide world.”   
“Really? Explain.”   
“I can’t explain it really. Just a feeling.” Near twirled a strand of grass round his fingers, the color vivid against his skin.   
“That’s not very logical, if you haven’t got a basis for it, why would you say something like that?” Mello shrugged and returned to his plum.  
“You ate the last plum.” Near told him, soft voice almost accusatory.   
“I didn’t know you wanted it.”  
“I did.”  
“Well take it if you want, I’m not stopping you.” The sarcasm bit harder into his tone than he meant it to, and he closed his eyes to the sky. 

Mello sighed, almost choking when he felt a soft mouth pressed into his cheek.   
“Wh-?”  
“You said I could take it, didn’t you? There’s still quite a lot on your face.”  
“I- I didn’t mean it like that!” he sputtered, heat rising up his neck.  
“Whatever.” Near fell back onto the grass, parallel to where Mello lay.  
“D- do you think we’ll stay like this?” he eventually managed, face still warm and fingers curling around the spot of his cheek that he swore felt more alive now than it had ever been.  
“Like what?”   
“Friends like this.” Near was silent, eyes momentarily blue with the reflection of the sky.  
“Friends like people who are different from everyone else in the whole wide world?”   
“Yeah.”  
“We can’t know for sure. But for what’s it’s worth- I hope so.” A cloud that had been creeping across the horizon shrouded the sun, and the fog began to rise again in the east.  
“Let’s go inside,” Mello shuddered, pulling himself into a sitting position. Near’s eyes followed him as he stood heavily, then turned, arm extended in the same manor it had been the day they’d first spoke. He took it delicately, and together they broke the thin curtain-wall and made their way back into the house.


End file.
